Chapter Text
Victor Wembanyama
From the moment Victor transferred into Stephon’s school, Stephon hadn’t been able to look away. The first time he saw him was when Victor introduced himself at the front of the class, though standing was all he really did. The teacher introduced him while Victor just blinked lazily and gave a half hearted wave to the other teenagers. Then he slid into his seat by the window, where the light caught the strange, stubby antennas tucked into his hair, short and the same deep brown as the rest of him, like a pair of forgotten cute hair clips. He was tall and lean, with light brown skin, and dressed in his school uniform, which wasn’t unusual except for the fact that he never wore the blazer.
Aliens weren’t rare at their school, they transferred in often, though they usually ended up in separate classes with the others. But Victor didn’t look like an alien, not really. He just looked… normal. Human. Like Stephon. The only difference was those antennas, which barely made a difference. Besides Stephon, almost everyone else didn’t bat an eye at them.
For the past month, Stephon had been trying, desperately, to get Victor’s attention. He’d linger nearby, talking just loud enough that Victor might hear, but the boy never reacted. He’d checked out books on aliens from the library, hoping to find some common ground, some way to connect. When Stephon handed Victor worksheets, he never even glanced up. When Stephon gave him chocolate on Valentine’s Day, Victor just took it and walked away without a word. It wasn’t much, but it was the most interaction Stephon had gotten from him, so he clung to it. If Victor didn’t have his antennas, Stephon wouldn’t have been able to tell he was truly alive from how cold he was.
Victor never spoke. Never acknowledged anyone. He sat at the back of the class by the window, finished his work before anyone else, and then spent the rest of the period staring outside, waiting for the bell. Stephon had tried everything, direct conversation, lingering looks, obvious signals, but Victor just… didn’t respond. He existed in a bubble of silence.
Those big, round eyes, that slim face, Stephon’s stomach flipped every time he looked at him. It was infuriating. Intoxicating. He was dangerously in love, and it terrified him how hard he was trying for someone who barely seemed to notice he existed. He’d even hoped for a small, awkward, one second long smile from Victor.
The strangest part? Victor didn’t seem bothered by Stephon’s attention. When their eyes met, there was no irritation, no discomfort, just that same blank, unreadable stare with maybe a head tilt. It was like he didn’t understand what Stephon was doing. It only encouraged Stephon to keep trying. And that made Stephon wonder, what if Victor doesn’t even speak English? The books never mentioned aliens having their own languages, but then again, the books didn’t mention aliens who looked this… human either.
Over the next month, Stephon quietly practiced gestures he hoped might finally reach Victor, ones he’d dug up from the same sci-fi books he’d borrowed from the library. He threw every scrap of advice he’d gathered at Victor, desperate to spark something, anything.
But still, nothing. Nothing at all. Victor had to know by now, how could he not? Stephon’s crush was painfully obvious, his attempts to even just be Victor’s friend was borderline desperate. Victor was too cold but it never made Stephon stop or give up on his dreams of dating this alien.
He had complained to his friends at basketball practice, though none of them gave him the advice he wanted to hear. Sure, some of them had said to just give up because Victor seemed untouchable and they might have been right. But Stephon always got what he wanted and was determined to make Victor fall for him no matter what it took.
He wished he had superpowers. If he did, though, his luck was so horrible he’d probably end up making the wrong person fall for him instead. Every morning before class, Stephon pressed his palms together, whispering the same plea like a ritual: “Please, Victor… just fall in love with me. Please, please, please.” Then he’d step inside, bracing for another day of silence.
————————————-
Stephon sprawled out on the football field, chin propped on his stacked arms as the sun glared down at him. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at Victor through the hot sun and kept his gaze locked on Victor who was perched on the bleachers, his antennas drooping like a displeased cat. A grin tugged at Stephon’s lips before he pushed himself up, dusting off his clothes as he made his way over. The late afternoon heat was already pricking sweat along his hairline.
By the time he reached Victor, his shirt was sticking to his back. “Aren’t you burning up here?” he asked, voice exhausted from the walk up. But Victor didn’t seem to pay much attention, not even giving Stephon a glance, eyes fixed on the active football field below.
Stephon’s smile faltered. He plopped down a few inches away, elbows digging into his knees, chin slumping into his palms like an upset puppy. If he had any antennas like Victor’s they’d be drooping.
“C’mon, Wemby,” he muttered, the nickname he gave Victor without even agreeing on it. “I’m out here sending you a million signals at you like an idiot, reading all these dumb sci-fi books just so we’d have something… and you— you don’t even look at me.”
Victor’s antennas flicked, just once in curiosity, but his gaze stayed forward. Then, quiet as a held breath, he spoke. “They’re all fake.”
Stephon’s head snapped up, his grin splitting his face so wide it had to be illegal. He talked. And oh that voice. Deeper than he’d imagined, wrapped in the faintest French accent, smooth as warmed chocolate. Not a drop of sweat on him, either, skin flawless like he’d been sitting in an air conditioned bubble instead of this oven of a bleacher. Stephon had run the mile with this guy last week and Victor hadn’t even breathed as hard as Stephon.
“You understand me?!” Stephon’s voice cracked, too loud, too excited, like he’d just won the grand prize in a contest he hadn’t known he’d entered.
Victor slowly turned his head to finally meet Stephon’s gaze for the first time.
“Yeah,” His antennas perked up. “and the books—all fake. Everything you’ve been doing to get my attention is all only in the books, it’s fictional, Stephon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stephon tried to sound annoyed, but the way Victor said his name made his chest tighten. “You made me look like a total dumbass.”
“You did that to yourself, it was just funny seeing you try so hard.”
Stephon groaned at that. If only Victor knew how much he kept him up at night. If Victor only knew how many nights he’d spent replaying their interactions, analyzing every glance, every word. Then those damn antennas twitched again, sharp and alert like a cat’s ears. He always saw them twitch, it was really cute and it had always caught Stephon off guard. His research and analytics said they did that when Victor was intrigued because last time, it was over the teacher said they can leave class a few minutes early.
“Wait, is he interested in… me!?” Stephon theorized to himself, blushing hard.
Victor exhaled, voice dropping softer. “We can be friends. I ate the chocolates you gave me. They were… good. But caramel isn’t for me.”
Doesn’t like caramel, noted.
Stephon’s lips curled just thinking of Victor unwrapping them at home, alone on his free will. “So that’s what changed your mind?”
“Yes.” Victor’s antennas twitched as he chuckled, and Stephon smiled wider.
“Do that again.”
“Do what again?”
Stephon pointed at his head. Victor tilted it, antennas tilting with it, “These?”
“I can’t just…it happens when it happens. You have to catch it.” A beat of silence. Stephon stared, transfixed. Victor, used to the weight of his gaze by now, sighed. “Do you want to—”
“Can I?!” Stephon lunged forward before Victor even finished.
Leaning in, Victor let him, let Stephon’s fingers brush the antennas, then his actual hair for comparison. He was a little confused and underwhelmed, it wasn’t exactly what he expected.
“Feels… just like your hair.”
Victor snorted. “What did you expect?”
Stephon pulled back, arms crossing over his stomach, cheeks warm. “I don’t know, I thought it’d be, like—alien tech or some shit.”
As much as disappointed, he enjoyed seeing Victor smile this much. He didn’t think he would ever see Victor smile, much less be the reason he laughed. This was almost like a dream come true for him.
"So everything I read was made up?" Stephon scratched the side of his head. "Then what am I supposed to read to understand you better?"
"You can just read me. I'm not that difficult to understand."
That was complete and utter bullshit. Victor was the hardest person (or alien) Stephon has ever read, and he didn't seem remotely aware of it.
Is he really that oblivious of his own actions?
“Also, it’s not very nice to call me an alien. I mean, it’s true…I am an alien, but I’m not really any different from you guys. I just don’t like being called that.”
Stephon nodded, completely absorbed in Victor’s words, as if he were listening to a lesson he never wanted to end. Hearing him speak was like listening to a beautiful song.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said sincerely.
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You never do.” Victor gave him a small, half hearted smirk that lasted only a second, but it was enough to make Stephon feel like he was about to melt.
With that, their gym teacher had blown her whistle at the two. Being the fact that they were the only two not doing the activity, they quickly got up and jogged to the field.
——————————————————
After what Stephon considered the most unbearable class of the day, even worse than the gym, which he usually had to endure frequently thanks to basketball practice, the two finally made their way into the locker room to change back into their regular clothes. They were heading home right after, this being their last class of the day and Stephon could not have been more relieved. Ending the day stuck in class while still damp with sweat wasn’t exactly his (or any student’s) idea of a great way to end school.
He approached his locker, one of the tall, divided units that only showed the upper halves of the students on either side. It was an awkward setup, unless, of course, Victor just so happened to be assigned the locker directly across from yours. Stephon tried not to stare, but it was difficult. The locker room was nearly empty, since they were the last two left, thanks to the teacher making them stay behind to pick up all the soccer balls after skipping half the class. Stephon of course did not mind at all.
Stephon watched as Victor swapped his gym clothes for a beautiful fitted tank top, then pulled a graphic tee over it though he had put it on backwards. Victor smacked his lips and removed it, flipped it and unknowingly gave Stephon a generous amount of extra time to stare. A silent prayer of gratitude flickered through Stephon’s mind. He couldn’t look away from the way Victor’s body moved, the way his back was turned just enough to highlight the sharp, tempting curve of his waist. When Victor lifted his arms to adjust the shirt, his waist seemed to narrow even more, as if tightening under Stephon’s gaze.
Heat crept into Stephon’s thoughts, freezing him in place. Did Victor even like being touched? Because right now, that’s all Stephon could think about. His hands mapping every inch of Wemby’s body, no matter what it took. He had never let himself really think about Victor like this before. It only happened in the locker room, when Victor stripped down like he was alone, like he had no idea how badly it made Stephon want not just a smile, not just friendship, but something far more meaningful.
“What was that? Do I really like him this much?” Stephon swallowed.
He blinked, and suddenly Victor was facing him, eyes locked on his in a way that wasn’t nearly as hungry as Stephon’s own, even though Stephon was still shirtless, skin flushed with thoughts he couldn’t get rid of.
Stephon’s back straightened and he slipped on his shirt, swallowing thickly. He rummaged through his unorganized locker and pulled out his jeans, quickly changing into them. His heart was pounding so hard he could practically fell the pulse in his head.
“He must think i’m weird, or maybe disgusting. I would understand-“ These thoughts began to flood Stephon’s head like crazy, he might as well had gotten a headache.
From the corner of his eye he saw Victor walk around the lockers and next to him. He stood tall and watched Stephon zip up his pants until he swung his backpack around his shoulder. God it was so embarrassing. The first time he had finally got his crush to talk to him and now he got caught staring at him change?
“Did you finish the English homework?” Victor asked.
He seemed unbothered by Stephon staring at him and it confused Stephon. He should be grateful, right? Victor wasn’t uncomfortable by it so Stephon didn’t dwell on the idea of being seen as a creep. For the first time ever, Stephon was glad Victor was nonchalant.
Stephon shook his head no, “Did you?”
“No,” Victor walked with Stephon outside and it was just as hot as almost an hour ago, if not hotter. “You should come over my house tomorrow to get it done. It’s due on Monday.”
Stephon could have sworn his heart skipped a beat or two just by hearing those words, his grip tightened on his backpack strap. He never saw Victor hang out with anyone and now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had seen Victor walk with someone. And it just so happened to be him. It was a Friday after all and he didn’t have practice tomorrow. It was perfect. Another blessing sent by heaven.
“Sure!” Stephon smiled, cheeks hot and not because of the sun this time. “Do you want my insta?” He offered.
Victor quietly pulled out his phone. It seemed like he was a few years back on the new iPhone but nonetheless, he got Stephon’s Instagram without a problem. Stephon typed in his user handle and followed himself as if Victor might forget to do it himself. He felt his phone buzz from the notification and smiled to himself.
“I’ll text you.” Victor simply said and slipped his phone in his back pocket.